


All Tied Up

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Kinktober2019 [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AmeriHawk, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Bondage, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Multi, Stucky - Freeform, ameriwinterhawk - Freeform, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 16:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Clint's not a big fan of his birthday.





	All Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flowerparrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/gifts).

> For Flowerparrish, I'm sorry it wasn't longer, but I had... a day, as you know. But damn did I enjoy the words I did get to write on this. Thank you so much for asking for this because UGH I love these three and MUST write more of them.
> 
> Now beta read by the amazing Ro!!!!

Natasha Romanov was an actual goddess.

She was not only the most incredible human in the  _ universe _ , Clint decided, but she was the best possible friend anyone - especially him - could ever, ever, ever hope to have.

Clint had very established feelings about his birthday, feelings that could be summed up in two words:  _ fuck that _ .

As a general rule, he didn’t celebrate it so much as get drunk and try to forget it.

Because his birthday? Also the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. What with the whole Father getting drunk when they went out for dinner to celebrate, and then… and then.

So, when Clint told people he didn’t like to do anything for his birthday, he genuinely meant it.

Of all people, Natasha knew and understood him the most - not just the way he felt about his birthday, but the way he felt about damn near everything.

Which is why, he had to assume, she had ignored his ‘no birthday acknowledgement on pain of death’ by delivering him the absolutely most amazing birthday gift in the history of ever.

Because when Clint got home that night, brown paper bag wrapped around a bottle of Patron and every intention of finishing it off before his pizza was delivered, he walked into his apartment and very abruptly had to abandon those plans.

Because in the middle of his living room, seated back-to-back on the rickety kitchen chairs, tied together and to their chairs with bright purple rope, were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

And there wasn’t a single stitch of clothing between them.

“Told ya he wouldn’t know what to say,” Bucky drawled, head tilted back onto Steve’s shoulder, a shit-eating grin on his face that did things to Clint… Things that were already being done thanks to the  _ absolutely no clothing _ .

“Clint? Steve asked, frowning slightly, just enough to draw his eyebrows together and create that worried furrow Clint always wanted to smooth away.

“Close the door, hotshot, this show isn’t free for your neighbors,” Bucky said when Clint just stood there, still staring, still unable to process much of _ anything, _ and honestly, he was amazed he was even still remembering to breathe at this point.

But he did rouse himself from his stupor enough to close the door.

“Natasha… thought this might be something you’d like,” Steve said, still concerned.

Bucky, on the other hand, was still smirking.

“More like she got tired of you refusing to make a move and decided the best way to get you to let us fuck you was to hand-deliver us.”

Clint coughed, tried to swallow, and had to clear his throat.

“Uh, well, she’s not wrong,” he admitted.

Steve’s concerned look faded away, face smoothing at last.

“She wrong about you dreamin’ of havin’ us at your mercy?”

“Nope, not wrong about that either.”

“You know we… Clint, we want you too,” Steve said. 

Clint was pretty sure  _ that _ wasn’t a thing that went along with Newton’s laws of gravity or anything, but, sure, he could… pretend that made sense.

Bucky snorted.

“Why am I surrounded by fuckin’ gorgeous idiots?” he grumbled. “Listen, hotshot, you’ve got a killer body, best smile I’ve seen on anyone who isn’t this asshole,” he nudged Steve, “and aim so good I get a little hard every time I watch you take a shot. So when Steve tells you we want you, he’s not lying, because Steve’s got as much of a hard-on for your stupid heroic shit as I do for your abs.”

“Uh. Oh. Uh, okay.”

This was… a lot to take in.

“Clint,” Steve’s voice had gone low and forceful, sounding more like Captain America on a mission than Steve Rogers out of uniform, “get your ass over here and enjoy your presents.”

And, well, Clint wasn’t great at following orders, but he sure as hell didn’t have a problem with following this one.

-o-

  
  



End file.
